When I play on my fiddle in Dooney Folk dance like a wave on the sea. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance?” — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“Of all the many changing things In dreary dancing past us whirled, To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, Words alone are… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind, Run on the top… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Labor is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul, Nor beauty born out of its own despair,… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
“The Cat and the Moon The cat went here and there And the moon spun round like a top, And the nearest… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild, Even… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
You know what the Englishman's idea of compromise is? He says, Some people say there is a God. Some people say there is no… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast, Drowning love's lonely hour… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
That toil of growing up; The ignominy of boyhood; the distress Of boyhood changing into man; The unfinished man and his pain. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I see a schoolboy when I think of him, With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Great literature has always been written in a like spirit, and is, indeed, the Forgiveness of Sin, and when we find it becoming the… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
His element is so fine Being sharpened by his death, To drink from the wine-breath While our gross palates drink from the whole wine. — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image
